#crucified writes

[crucifiedramblings]

yearning for gregory "i'm not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite" house and james "i wish you were a girl" wilson to just shut up and kiss on the mouth already, day 286547653

[crucifiedramblings]

me with eddie munson rn, send me eddie x reader asks/prompts

"undoing this character's death would take away his sacrifice and character arc" girl I don't give a shit. I'm bringing him back through the power of ao3 fix-it fics and there's nothing you can do to stop me x

[mccallhero]

we all have a h u n g e r .

[scribbly-artist]

Calling it a Night

Summary: You and Viktor have been working late at the lab. But you’re concerned for his health after all these late nighters. You’ll pull him away from his work desk by any means necessary.

Author’s Notes: I let the Arcane brain rot win lmao. Season 2 was dope, I’ve rewatched S1 and I’m making my way through S2 again. I looked up some tickle content for Arcane, and while there isn’t a whole lot, I got sucked in, hard. So he is a little ler!reader fic featuring my favourite inventor/scientist, Viktor. :)

He was a little bit difficult to write for, but after rewatching the show I think I could portray him a little bit accurately. Apologises if not.

*I have written a sequel! If you like this one, here is part two.

Warning: a tickle fic. If you’re not into that, I’d advise not reading.

Words: ~1,400 | AO3 Link

The weight of your head felt like a boulder as you awoke from sleep. You weren’t even sure when you gracefully passed out on your work desk, papers strewn about messily. You swiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, letting out a yawn as you reached up to rub your eyes. Your back felt so stiff, probably from leaning over on the desk. You arched your back as you cracked it. You continued to lift your head in this drowsy state, your eyes looking at the tall, elegant windows. The sight shocked you.

The moon was high up in the sky amongst the stars. But why were you still here so late? Your gaze turned to the left as you shifted in your seat to witness your reason.

Because Viktor was still here, working away.

Both of you were doing some research in the laboratory. Both independent work, but you both enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s quiet company. You helped out Viktor when you could. Whether that be handing him a tool that was just out of reach, or to grab both of you a nice beverage or a snack so he didn’t have to grab his cane and hobble over to the kitchen nearby to do it himself. He apologised every time you went out of your way to do that in particular, but you didn’t mind. You liked caring for him and helping him out.

However, it was getting way too late at night. It looked like even Jayce had already left with no sign of him in the shared lab. You were no stranger to the late nights doing research and experiments - Viktor even more so - but you worried for Viktor’s health as he appeared more tired and pale lately.

You rose from your seat, pacing over to Viktor’s workbench. He didn’t seem to notice your presence behind him. He was heavily focused on carefully putting together a little machine. Something for Hextech, you assumed. You admired how delicately and calmly he could work. You placed a warm hand on his shoulder, making him jump, his head whipping around to look at you with his amber eyes.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” You spoke up, alarmed.

“It’s quite alright. Mm, I was just focusing and didn’t hear you get up.” He reached up to put his own hand on top of yours. “You must be tired - I could hear you snoring earlier.”

Your cheeks flushed at his comment. “We should really get going. The moon is already out, and it looks like it’s been for a while.” You gazed out the window.

“Just for a bit longer, it’s nearly complete.” He replied, his hand slipping away from yours as his head turned back to the pieces of metal in front of him.

“Viktor, I know you’re no stranger to all-nighters. But if you keep working, your body will shut down. You haven’t gotten a lot of rest lately,” Your mind wandered as you spoke. “I could see how tired your eyes looked. Surely you can finish this first thing tomorrow.” Your other hand joined his opposite shoulder, gliding your palms on top of them. He hummed at the touch. Maybe you could convince him to stop and leave with a bit of comfort. But he shook his head, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“It is indeed tempting. And I appreciate your concern. But this will only take, eh, twenty more minutes or so.” His hands went back to work, picking up a screwdriver to carefully tighten a screw. You let out a sigh at his reply, leaning back on your heels, hands still on his shoulders. You pondered for a minute. If he can’t pull himself away from his work, you would have to do it by force. Literally.

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” You pointed out as your hands slipped down from his shoulders to grip under his arms near his ribs. You felt his body jump at the touch as you attempted to physically pull him away from his desk. “If I have to pick you up like a toddler, I will.” Your hands slipped under his arms as you pulled some more. You got as far as lifting his elbows off the bench before you heard a noise leave his mouth.

“Hahaha— please, do not grab me there. Please, be patient. I won’t be much longer.” He steeled himself from laughing anymore than that, resting his elbows back on the table as he continued to work.

You heard his laugh and felt his body jump when you previously grabbed him. You started connecting the dots in your head, devising a plan.

Your hands dropped down from under his arms to his sides instead, dragging your fingers along the way. He jumped and twitched at the touch, stifling any noise before it left his mouth. “What was that laughing about, Viktor? Is something funny?”

He started to slowly catch on. “No, it was nothing of concern. Please, disregard it.” He was aware of your fingers being dangerously close to his sides. His body went stiff as a board.

“I think it was something else. And I think it’s our ticket out of here, Viktor.” You replied as your index fingers started to draw ticklish circles into his sides, his skin quivering under your touch.

He took in a breath, steeling himself. It was hard to concentrate and not react now that you’ve already started tickling him. But if he stayed calm, he could will himself to concentrate. He didn’t dare speak, as even replying to your comment would make his focus slip. He tried to distract himself by tinkering on his little machine, but even that was difficult.

You added more fingers as drawing circles turned into scribbling into his sides. A grin plastered itself on your face. You knew that if you kept going, he’d have to give in. You glanced over to view his arms, his elbows already shaking. It was taking every ounce of willpower within in to not turn around and grip your wandering hands by the wrists.

“You’re forcing my hand, Viktor. I’m doing this for your own good.” You warned as your hands slid up to his ribs, gently tickling between the bones through his vest.

Viktor’s body shook, his hands pausing but still gripping onto the machine and the screwdriver in his hands. He shut his eyes, leaning forward to try to get away from your touch. But your hands simply followed, pinching his ribs. He let out a laugh, he could no longer hold his reactions in.

“Pleahahahase, I j-just need to tighten some more screws— haha!” Quiet laughter escaped Viktor, his shoulders shaking. You couldn’t help but laugh alongside him, his sweet laughter you never got to hear often was quite contagious.

“Trust me; you can do it tomorrow. C’mon now, let’s go home.” You punctuated your sentence by quickly moving your hands to wiggle your fingers under his arms. Viktor let out a loud bout of laughter, quickly rising from his seat and grabbing ahold of your wrists, swiveling around on his heels. He met your smirking face.

“Alright, ohohokay, I believe you have made your point,” He stated, taking in a couple of breaths to rid of the residual laughter. “We will do some more tomorrow. Let’s go rest up, and maybe even have some tea?” He suggested as he let go of your wrists and shifted, grabbing his cane from off the side. You nodded as you started to leave with him, walking side by side.

“I’ll make us some chamomile tea when we get back. It’ll make us well rested and we’ll have lots of energy for more experiments tomorrow.” The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of his cane soothed you as you both walked together, matching his pace as to not leave him behind.

“Certainly. Mm, just before that though, so you’re aware. I’ll be getting you back tenfold for all of that.” As his words left his mouth, you thought you had misheard him. Your gaze darted to his face, a small but confident smile on his lips.

Uh oh.

You could feel a little bit of sweat collect on your forehead as your face turned red.

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Kat and Lily

They find each-other in every universe💥

[crucifiedramblings]

send me an ask with a prompt and two characters (reader included)! <3

(fandoms are in the tags!)

⋆˚࿔ “we need to…” prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ “we need to talk.”

²⁾ “we need to get out of here- now.”

³⁾ “we need to get some rest, or we’ll be more of a hindrance than a help.”

⁴⁾ “we need to at least pretend to be civil - can you find it in yourself do that much for me, please?”

⁵⁾ “we need to get our stories straight before they separate us for questioning.”

⁶⁾ “we need to get you patched up.”

⁷⁾ “we need to get warm, or the cold will kill us before we have the chance to worry about anything else doing it.”

⁸⁾ “we need to move; it’s not safe here anymore.”

⁹⁾ “we need to look the part if we want to stand any chance at fitting in.”

¹⁰⁾ “we need to work together on this.”

¹¹⁾ “we need to get to him before they do.”

¹²⁾ “we need to play this close to the vest; i don’t know exactly what’ll happen if we don’t, but i don’t think either of us will want to find out.”

¹³⁾ “we need to get some food into you, you look like you’re ready to drop.”

¹⁴⁾ “we need to get them out of there!”

¹⁵⁾ “we need to stop and plan our next move; rushing in will only land us back at square one all over again.”

¹⁶⁾ “we need to start locking that damn door.”

¹⁷⁾ “we need to get your head looked at, i swear to g- “

¹⁸⁾ “we need to increase the security around here. i’m not taking any more chances, not after this.”

¹⁹⁾ “we need to end this, and you know it too.”

²⁰⁾ “we need to get our own place. if [roommate] walks in on us one more time, i’m genuinely never going to be able to look them in the eye again.”

²¹⁾ “we need to get a handle on this before it goes public.”

²²⁾ “we need to put a stop to this before anyone finds out.”

²³⁾ “we need to get away for a while, what do you say?”

²⁴⁾ “we need to figure out what it is we’re doing here. do you feel the way i do, or has this never been more than a fling to you?”

²⁵⁾ “we need to celebrate!”

²⁶⁾ “we need to get an answer out of him, one way or another.”

²⁷⁾ “we need to get in there; how remains to be seen.”

²⁸⁾ “we need to go get help!”

²⁹⁾ “we need to get better friends.”

³⁰⁾ “we need to come out here more.”

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 6

WC: 1,1K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain,Transfeminine Mountain, Angst, Lies, Identity Reveal, Heartbreak, Hurt no Comfort (in this chapter)

“No,” Mounty gasps, finally realizing. He scared her. “Swiss, no, that’s not–it can’t be–”

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 6 under the cut or on AO3.

It took five months for Swiss’ past to catch up to him.

He knew it would—sooner rather than later, knowing his luck—but he really thought he would have more time to…come up with a plan. Anything, he would do anything to avoid more heartbreak, he had promised himself. And yet he failed at a simple task of being honest.

Life just never seems to have any mercy in store for him, so why would he even have hope?

It’s a busy evening in Mounty’s bar; it’s warm—the most important reason—but the word cozy also comes to mind. Even despite the spiderwebs, broken furniture and a distant smell of rotten wood. There are flowers, though, all year long, so very clearly Mounty’s touch. It’s her home and she loves it as it is—which makes Swiss love it, too—and such an atmosphere is inviting.

The cowboy is, as usual, hanging out by the bar, watching his girl work. She’s happy, he’s happy and it’s all good, until he hears a name he has been praying for months not to hear ever again.

“He ain’t so scary anymore!” a man from the other side of the bar laughs, and the people surrounding him follow. “He was a cunt, no idea where he got all that reputation from. The mighty Shadow nearly pissed himself!”

Another wave of booming laughter sounds and it hurts Swiss’ eardrums. He tenses, hands going clammy around the glass he’s holding, and listens in, despite his better judgment.

“He’s been hiding like a coward for months after that one failed heist, from what I’ve heard,” the man continues. “Snatched a chance when he peaked his ugly head out and now the bitch is done!”

Swiss’ blood boils and freezes in his veins at the same time. Mounty doesn’t notice; she’s too busy, and the man is grateful. The stranger in the corner keeps laughing with his companions as he insults the infamous Shadow and gloats about something he most definitely didn’t do.

Of course he didn’t.

Swiss doesn’t know what makes him snap. He only notices that he stood up when he feels the pulse of a man he’s holding against the wall by his neck under his hand.

“Swiss!” he hears Mounty call from behind the bar. The whole place is so quiet all of a sudden. “Let him go!”

The cowboy chokes the stranger slowly for a bit longer, staring into his terrified eyes. If he…if he actually were to finish off the Shadow, he would be the one to piss himself. He is about to prove it.

“You’re the cunt here,” he mutters before letting go.

Swiss storms off without sparing a glance in anyone’s direction again, not even Mounty. He all but runs out of the saloon and behind it, into the cold and dark where he sits on the wet ground and hangs his head. His eyes sting and he wants to just cry, but he can’t. He ran out of tears a long time ago.

He hears the squeak of the saloon’s batwing door and the shuffle of its additional covering that they have put on for the cold nights and he prays to anyone who’s willing to listen that it’s not–

“Swiss, darling,” Mounty whispers and the tone of it the–the fear in it breaks the man’s heart in half. He scared her. 

He scared her.

He doesn’t reply, he can’t speak; it’s like there’s something lodged in his throat. Shame, most likely.

Despite her visible apprehension, the barmaid comes closer. She crouches by Swiss and just…waits. She waits for whatever may happen and she looks determined to do so for however long it may take.

He scared her.

Swiss simply breathes for a while before he dares to open his mouth again, “The–the Shadow. What do you know about…him?”

“Just the rumors,” Mounty shrugs, doing her very best to seem unbothered; casual about the whole ordeal, “but I don’t think I’d like to meet him. That won’t be a problem, though, ‘cause apparently he’s dead. Nobody’s seen him or heard of him for months and that man that you just…”

“He’s not dead,” Swiss interrupts—too sharp, too loud. He immediately hates himself for it, even more than he already did. 

He scared her.

“How do you know?” she asks, much quieter.

The man swallows audibly against that mysterious something that’s suffocating him, “How many months do you think it’s been since…since he was last seen?”

“Hm…” The barmaid thinks for a moment, counting silently. “Something like five, probably. 

Swiss chuckles sadly, locking his eyes on Mounty’s. He doesn’t speak—doesn’t explain—but he doesn’t need to. She’s a smart girl, and the sorrow, regret and shame in Swiss’ eyes are speaking louder and clearer than he ever could.

“No,” Mounty gasps, finally realizing.

He scared her.

“Swiss, no, that’s not–it can’t be–”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” is all he can say. He should have so much more to say, beg for forgiveness, but he can’t. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, that this is simply too big.

He gives up.

Mounty’s thoughts are racing, her breathing picks up, and her eyes widen. She’s an image of pure horror as she connects more and more dots. Swiss feels like throwing up.

“I’ve been…for months I’ve been dating–I’ve been sleeping with the world’s most famous criminal, I’ve–I’ve been…” she rambles, more to herself than the man. His whole body hurts. “I’m–I’m in love with the world’s most famous murderer.”

He scared her.

“Sweetheart, please, just–just hear me out, gimme a chance to explain before…” before he leaves, he wanted to say, because there is nothing else that can be done. He has to get the fuck out and away from her, from the most precious creature on the entire planet. One that he stained with his touch, with his lies. No hands that have so much blood on them should ever be allowed to touch something as pure as Mounty.

Thankfully, she doesn’t let him finish, “Explain what? That you lied to me and put on a whole ass fake personality to just…to just what, exactly?”

“It’s not like that, I just–” Swiss tires, but he’s not sure what it is that he’s trying to do. “I was running away! The Shadow…me, I–it’s not me, Mounty, please, let me–”

He scared her.

“Maybe I will,” she spits. “But certainly not now.”

“Momo, please,” the man falters and he’s about to fall to his knees and grab onto the barmaid’s feet and beg when she moves away. “Please, don’t be scared of me.”

“Too late, Shadow.” Mounty leaves him there, out in the cold darkness.

And Swiss finally cries.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Sacred Moments (Batman AU)

So that new AU I wrote a post about earlier is now almost 7 pages long. Ha ha ha, joke's on me. Here's the first page.

Masterpost

Maeve tries to scream as they grab her, but she is quickly silenced. The men pull her further back into the alley. One man has an arm wrapped around her body, pulling her into him as his other hand covers her mouth.

“Hurry!” He spits out, and the second man pulls a needle out of his bag and brings it toward me. She thrashes and fights, but the man holding her has a sure grip, and they successfully inject her with whatever is in the needle. She’s not awake long after that.

She wakes up in the trunk of a car a few times, but they seemed to have timed the drug well, always reinjecting her right while she’s still fighting off the sleep of the last dose. A few times she wakes up tied to a bed in a motel and that’s terrifying, but the men with her, give her a snack and a drink, let her use the bathroom before they drug her again. They tell her stories while she eats and show her news articles of Gotham. News of the man they’re bringing her to skinning peoples faces. Stories of a duffle bag full of heads courtesy of the guy Skinner Man hopes to give her to. Tales of gang wars, territory disputes and murder.

She’s not scared of dying. Not in the way she’s scared of living through certain things. She had always hoped that if something terrible were to happen to her she would just die, rather than have to live through it. Take the time to hurt, heal, live with the wounds and scars. There are certain wounds she’s not sure she could live with. Struggles she’s not sure she would want to survive. 

But these men try to scare her with things that will kill her, and while being skinned or beheaded isn’t high on her list of to-dos, dead is dead and she’s certain she won’t be caring for long if any of that happens to her. 

After a long hazy trip, at least three stops at motels, she wakes up in the trunk again. There are muffled voices around her. The car is stopped and the trunk opens. She is groggy and disoriented but still resists as a hand grabs her and sits her up. 

“Well well well, look what we have here.” A new voice greets her. This man is not one of the ones who has driven her across the country. He walks up to her and stop in front of where she’s sitting cross-legged in the trunk of a car.

“I just need confirmation that you’re the one I wanted, don’t mind me.” The man reaches towards her, grabbing her shirt and pushing it up her abdomen with one hand while the other hand reaches for her waistband. She thrashes, hitting the man and trying to kick out, but the drug has made her limbs loose and wobbly. He gets a grip on her pants and pushes them down slightly. He doesn’t go for the button or zipper and this confuses her enough for him to push the clothing out of the way enough for him to see her soulmate mark.  Once he does he lets her go and backs away.

“She’s the one. Put her back to sleep and I’ll set up the meeting.”

[ducktracy]

i've been in a very "nostalgic for SpongeBob" mood lately and that's warranted a lot of reflecting on Baby Me being a Sponge fanatic and thinking of what she'd think of now. and i have to say that one of my favorite parts of doing what i do--and also the most stupidly niche--is that one of my first online hyperfixations i recall having was SpongeBob production music. i remember animating magical girl transformations in Flipnote to SPONGEBOB MUSIC. i remember feeling so smart researching all the songs and getting to hear them without any dialogue on top. very gratifying to 11 year old me. i was and am still very fixated on production music, and so i always get very excited when seeing uploads of these songs and spotting a screenshot of a scene i worked on among them. one of my favorite aspects of watching episodes premiere is seeing what music they added on top of scenes i touched. it's just neat how many facets my thankfulness for Doing What I'm Doing gets to reach. i'm never not thinking of how grateful i am to be doing what i'm doing

[mappingthesky]

without further ado…..it is my great honor to post the eighth chapter of burning through you. thank you so much for bearing with me on this one, i hope it is every bit worth the wait :::)

[crucifiedramblings]

GREGORY HOUSE— plus size partner headcanons

nsfw under the cut. minors dni.

this is quite literally my favorite concept ever as a plus-sized individual, but here are some general things i think house would do in a relationship with a chubby/plus-sized partner <3 nsfw headcanons under the cut ✭

not to say house has never dated someone bigger than him before, but it wasn't something he really paid attention to. let's be real here, he would definitely make a comment or two regarding your "well endowed backside"

house is definitely a thigh man— the more you have, the happier he'll be

when the two of you cuddle in bed, house will gingerly tuck his hands under your thighs— this time, in a non-suggestive way— soaking up your excess heat through his palms, burying his face into the soft plushness of your chest

in the morning, house will find himself splayed across your torso— face down against your sternum. he'll lie there for a while, listening to your soft breaths and enjoying the warmth

if you're ever worried about being on top— don't. house will shut down any irrational fear before it even starts.

"what are you talking about?" house glanced up at you from his eagerly seated position on the mattress. you shook your head with flushed cheeks, embarrassment flooding in.

"i just— i don't want to hurt you. your leg." the last part is said more quietly, as though it was an insult to even bring it up. house, however, let out a wheezy laugh in response; slapping his good thigh, he slowly got up onto his knees, gently grasping your hands in his own.

"sweetheart— you could fuck me so hard that my other leg decides to give out mid-stroke— i'd die an incredibly grateful man." house chuckled, shaking his head with a wide grin. "now— please— sit on my dick before it loses interest. i'm not in my twenties anymore— there's a time limit!"

when house is fucking you especially hard, he is more than thankful for the extra grip on your hips

as said before, he is a thigh man— when house is eating you out, clamping your thighs around his head is his own personal heaven

house likes seeing your ass ripple when he gives it a good smack <3

[charm0nt]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙊𝙔𝘼𝙇 𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙔 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙄𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙔.

gillikin country ( often known simply as " gillikin " ) is in the northernmost region of oz. known for its industrial prosperity, it's home to the renowned shiz university. the yellow brick road that leads to the emerald city goes through gillikin, and it also houses beautiful mountains, lush forests, and a bustling railroad system. the gillikinese people are known for their blonde locks, prominent foreheads, and gapped teeth. they often don purple, save for aristocratic families. their loyalty to the royal family and the wizard is strong, as is their respect.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡 . . . 𝙅𝙀𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙇𝘿 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙄𝘼 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙄𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙔.

gillikinese people are known for their extraordinary blonde locks. the same can be said of JERROLD, who grew up the second of four boys and one girl. he was never expected to be king, but when his brother abruptly passed at the age of twenty - one, the throne fell into jerrold's lap. he was an impressively quick learner and a natural king, and the gillikinese people took fondly to his kindness, grace, and benevolence. DARIA, on the other hand, donned jarring, dark curls. she hailed from winkie country, the daughter of aristocrats there. her marriage to jerrold was arranged by their parents when they were both still teenagers. daria was poised, elegant, and boasted a gentleness to match jerrold's. luckily, their love came as naturally as their ability to rule. she, too, was a warm, welcoming queen, and she had intelligence and political grace to match, often offering her husband advice.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦 . . . 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙏 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙇𝙄𝘼 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙄𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙔.

CHARMONT is the eldest child of jerrold and daria, and the heir ( and crowned king at fifteen years old ) to the throne. his birth was celebrated across gillikin country, as the king and queen suffered several miscarriages before him. to give birth to a healthy baby boy was about as lucky as they could get. he was dubbed the heir, and he was taught from a young age to one day assume the throne. lessons never quite stuck, however, and he largely preferred self - exploration and adventure to etiquette lessons and politics. like his parents, he's kind and warm, and he seeks genuine connections from life. naturally, he's charming; it's in the name, after all. after the sudden deaths of his parents, charmont was expected to become king at a young age. inexperienced and uninterested, he delegated all responsibility to his paternal aunt, edna. CECILIA ( portrayed by @donohcrm ) is the second born, only a year younger than her brother. though not the heir, she was cherished by her parents all the same. she never had the same pressure as charmont, never expected to inherit any thrones. rather, perhaps she would one day marry into power elsewhere. she was allowed to be a free spirit, expected only to be a lady in the process. the siblings were as close in spirit as they were in age, nearly attached at the hip. though cecilia isn't much younger, charmont assumes the protective older brother role all too naturally. their relationship only strengthens when their parents die, and charmont considers her to be his only genuine friend.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥 𝗛𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗥𝗬 𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧 . . . 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙀𝘿𝙉𝘼 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙄𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙔.

EDNA grew up in the shadows of her older brothers. she wanted power, but she was never destined to get it. she was intelligent and cunning from a young age, ladylike only in appearance. behind closed doors, she was a master manipulator unafraid to resort to bloodshed to attain her goals. on top of that, she was a skilled sorceress, though even madame morrible overlooked her. she always remained close to jerrold, always whispering in the ear that daria wasn't. she loathed daria, but she did so in secret and in passive aggressive smiles. when jerrold and daria passed, she couldn't be more thrilled. charmont was young, much too young to become a king, and entirely uninterested in power. and so she seized the opportunity, offering to hold down the fort until charmont was ready to rule. she doesn't like her niece or nephew, viewing them as mere brats standing in her way. though she conveys kindness, she tilts her nose up at both. she's cold and calculating, and she'll always love the one she's with. while charmont and cecilia are away at shiz university, she rules over gillikin country with an iron fist, plummeting the country deeper into chaos and internal conflict.

[taxevaider]

i originally wrote this in an old sketchbook so i js rewrote it (and tweaked it some) ^_^

Porch Step Cookies

Farmer!Epic x MEEE (ough, this can js be read as first person tho lol)

“tell me,” Epic sits next to me on the steps of his farm house and hands me a plate filled with cookies. It takes me a second but a small smile rises on my lips when I realize they are chocolate chip. The plate is warm to the touch, a welcomed feeling, far more welcoming to the slight chill that lapped against my face a few moments ago. 

“why’d you come all the way up here? aren’t you from wayyyy down south?” I nod as I pick up one of the soft cookies, its leftover warmth spreading to my fingers. “Yeah, I came up to see family.” I let out a small laugh/sigh, allowing my shoulders to drop slightly. “Some time after, I got cabin fever, so they sent me here, said you were a close friend so I wouldn’t have to worry.” 

He gave a nod and nodded in response. For a few minutes, me and him sit side by side, simply choosing to the wind brush up against the two you. Only after a while, I remember that I am still holding on to one of the cookies, so to not let it go to waste—or the ants below, I take a bite. A soft gasp leaves my mouth as the sweetness of it spreads across my tongue.   

“Did,” I swallow so that I don’t speak with my mouth full. “Did you make these?” 

Epic gains a bashful smile soon followed by a slight purple hue coming to his zygomatic bones. “yeah, actually. i like to bake when i find the time.” He turns his head towards me, his smile now much wider than before. A small feeling flutters in my stomach as my face copies his.  

[agirlking]

“The Sullys didn’t owe Spider anything, they didn’t adopt him.” It is basic decency to not leave a child with the murderers that kidnapped him. Much less a child you knew since infancy, much less a child who at least two of your children love like he’s their own brother.

[sapphorror]

so I don't necessarily have anything to *say* about it just yet but I find this moment very interesting because if there's one thing that's always been very central to Dib's characterization it's that he, like Zim, is driven primarily by ego—and more to the point, his sense of heroism is ultimately constructed in much the same way Zim's role as an invader is. It's a shallow fantasy he's crafted for himself to make living more bearable, and I would think that the opportunity to be hailed as an entire planet's chosen savior would be exactly the kind of thing he'd seize on. It's EXACTLY how he sees himself, or at least, how he wants to see himself.

And the really interesting thing is that we actually DO see exactly this happen later on in the same story, when he finally wins and it maybe just a little bit goes to his head. He's genuinely well-intentioned, and he wants to teach the Plim to rise up and save themselves rather than rely solely on him, but that's just it—his ultimate end goal as Defender of the Earth has always been to expose the truth and make people realize how blind they've been, but now that he's opened their eyes they can go forth and seize their own destiny, which just happens to look a lot like all the things Dib personally cares about. Perhaps ironically, his desired role is less hero than prophet, and maybe that's why he finds it so hard to swallow the notion of starring in someone else's pre-made narrative.

(And there's something to be said here, about how Zim, for all his unrepentant Zim-ness, might've actually gotten one thing a little bit right when he told Dib the Plim weren't suited to self-actualization—that they didn't want it. To Zim's view, of course, this only makes them exploitable and we're right back to him being horrible again, but I think there is something worth considering about the Plim's autonomy and that, faced with all the evidence and every means with which to save themselves, they still asked—literally asked—Dib to do it for them. Which begs the question—is Dib's continued insistence on developing the Plim's independence itself a kind of subjugation? How about his fixation on showing humankind something they so obviously don't want to see?)

... But you know the really funny part?

Dib ultimately rejects yet another heroic title that isn't to his liking, albeit much less surprisingly this time. Lesson unlearned.

Take this all with a grain of salt—I'm thinking out loud here and quite literally didn't expect to say any of this, but it's an aspect of Dib's character that interests me, and it was actually really unexpected and exciting to read a piece of canon material going into it. I think I'd like it if there'd been more emphasis on Dib's initial motives being largely the same as Zim's in essence—that is to say, feeding his ego and spiting the nemesis—since his ultimate epiphany is that all this time wasted on a petty popularity contest could've been spent actually, you know, being a hero, but the message still comes across and the core of the story being told is really solid. I'm going to be obsessed for weeks.

Also, Plab is everything to me. And I really do think it says something that the single faithful outlier among the Plim still thought Dib could maybe afford to cool it on the reclaiming-their-individuality bit. That's honestly more telling to me than the opinion of any crowd.

[dahliavxvii]

That blonde doll is selling herself in the Christmas shopping window. If you have enough money in your pocket, you can buy her singing voice, her smile and her innocence. We remind you to seize the time, because her love is charged by the minute. But don't doubt the authenticity of her love before the timer ends.

(Sorry it's just my nonsense)